Committed
by RochelleRene
Summary: This is just a one-shot fantasy I have of a Huddy make-up.  Hope you enjoy.  I don't own them, sadly.  I'm trying to buy them from DS, but he's a sadistic motherf***er.


Cuddy woke to the incessant, rhythmic tapping she used to know so well. She wrapped her robe around her and shuffled to the front door, not even looking through the peephole because only one person had this kind of persistence. She steeled herself for an onslaught of insulting comments and inane requests, like the old days, but still couldn't fight the little nugget of joy she felt that he was there… at her house… at 2am.

"I thought when we broke up this little tradition, charming as it is, would end," she said, swinging open the door. Her cocky resolve wavered a bit when she saw him. He looked more awful – as in more tired, disheveled, and erratic – than usual. "House," she said.

He looked her in the eye, saying nothing.

"What is it?" she probed.

She watched him closely as he blinked. "Cuddy," he began, "Will you just…" he trailed off.

Cuddy waited a few beats. "Will I just what?"

Suddenly his large hands were on her cheeks, cupping her face. His lips brushed hers, tentative at first, but more insistent once she didn't slap him. Cuddy was instantly lost in the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of his stubble against her face. She was transported to several months ago when this was all, strangely, less tidy but more fun.

House felt Cuddy's hands on his chest – an equivocal gesture. She was putting a barrier between them, but she wasn't pushing him away. She was open, yet cautious, as she always was with him. Standing here in front of him, out of her stilettos and not behind a desk, he was reminded of her tininess. He felt protective of her. In fact, he wanted to protect her from himself, but couldn't do it anymore. Still holding her face in his hands, he kissed her eyelids, her forehead, her nose.

Cuddy was breathless and confused. She uttered the only thing that made any sense at the moment. "Will I just _what_, House?" she whispered.

"Just… Try to let me try again." The words hung there. They were nose to nose and she stared at his closed eyes, not sure what to say, what to think. "I'll screw up. I'll hurt you. I'll leave you stranded," he continued, his eyes clenched like he was in pain. "I'm a child. I know this." He pulled his head back up, but still held her face. He stared into her eyes as he moved his thumbs along her cheekbones. "But I'll grow up. I'll get better. I'll keep trying to be who you need me to be." Cuddy swallowed hard. "Will you just keep trying to let me do that?"

House saw her set her jaw the way she did when she was ready to fight him. She pursed her lips and knitted her brow. Everything in her face said she was about to "Dean of Medicine" him and kick him right out of there. But her body held still against him and her hands were relaxed against his tee shirt. He let one of his hands leave her face and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. He needed to encourage any piece of her that was willing to hear him out, to let him back in.

"With us apart," Cuddy replied quietly, "I'm sad so much less." House's heart stung, though she wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. He'd just hoped that she hadn't realized that. "But the thing is," she went on, "I'm _happy_ so much less too." House gave her a small, sad grin and nodded slightly. He leaned down again to kiss her, and this time she kissed back. He felt her lips part, allowing him to taste her again. He felt one of her hands drop and rest on his waist, but the one stayed firmly between them. This is how it would have to be, he realized, until he held up his end of this bargain. She might let him back in, but only so far. She'd open the door, but leave it ajar in case she needed to send him right back to where he came from.

House felt torn. He wanted to keep going, to get her into the bedroom both because he longed for her and to try to make this possibility last. He didn't want to be a gentleman and leave and have her tell him it was a mistake the next day, that he'd misunderstood. At the same time, he didn't want her to roll over and say that either, after he'd been lulled into thinking he had her again.

Cuddy felt surprisingly clear about the matter. She realized that her constant longing for him – for his body in her bed, yes, but for his insanely bizarre personality in her life too – would not wane. She would never not want him next to her at 2 in the morning. "You can stay," she whispered, taking his hand and turning to lead him inside.

Suddenly House was second-guessing himself. The whole drive over he was wary – easily picturing this ending with a fight or worse. But in his fantasy in which she'd take him back, he hadn't gone past the point of acceptance to picture the place where he'd actually have to care again and to think about the things he said or did. As he said, he knew he'd screw this up, again and again, and he knew he was asking her to endure pain again for the sake of his pathetic heart that could only love her. Was this fair?

His feet remained planted and Cuddy's arm was tugged short by his anchored weight. She looked back at him questioningly.

"Are you sure?' he asked her.

She sighed. "No," she replied honestly. "Have we ever been?"

"This could end badly," he cautioned.

"I'm having déjà vu," she quipped. He looked at her, then down at their intertwined hands. "House, it can't end badly because it can't end," she explained. "For whatever twisted set of reasons, we can't not keep going at this. It makes no sense on paper or to anyone else in the world." She paused to let her words sink in. "But I think we both know, by now, that it's endless."

He looked up at her again and she tugged playfully on his arm. He followed her.

In the bedroom she took off her robe and slid under the covers on her side of the bed, as casually as if they had made up from a tiff and not a 6-month cold war. Her back was to him and she closed her eyes, but kept one arm stretched back a bit, beckoning him to her side. House kicked off his shoes and slid off his pants and eased up behind her, now experiencing a déjà vu moment of his own as the white noise of the baby monitor whirred quietly in the air. He threaded one arm around her waist and buried his nose in her hair, remembering her smell and her curves instantly.

"I missed you," she murmured, feeling the roughness of his face against her bare shoulder.

"You have no idea," he replied.

"Really," she countered, rolling over to face him. "You found time to miss me while hiring and marrying hookers?" she asked, half accusingly and half in jest.

House actually looked a little sheepish. "I can pay people to be around me, Cuddy," he explained. "It doesn't make me stop missing the one person who likes to be around me."

She stared back, unamused. "I'm sick of that excuse, House. You can't be an ass and keep blaming it on the fact that you're such an ass."

He nodded slightly. "I know."

"It makes you sad and lonely and broken, sure, but that doesn't absolve you," she continued.

"I know."

"You always say you can do better, House," she rolled on, "So cut the crap and _do better!_"

"I know," he sighed.

Cuddy paused. "You're agreeing with me."

House gave her a half smile, running his hand up and down her side. "I know."

"Where's this coming from?" she asked.

"I'm _trying_, Cuddy." He winked at her. Cuddy pouted slightly in response, her brow furrowed. "What?" he asked.

"I don't know how to have sex with you without arguing with you during it," she explained, her pout turning into a small smile.

"You see?" he exclaimed. "You crazy broads don't know what you want."

"Sexist remarks... That's a good start," Cuddy observed.

House pulled her body close against his. "So we can agree to agree about my asshood," he summarized, "as long as I keep objectifying your ass." He grabbed her ass hard and started kissing her neck.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "The more we talk about our relationship, the more I realize how fucked up it is," she said, her words trailing off a bit as House's tongue worked its way down her chest. One of his hands was sliding her nightgown up her back, trailing his fingers along her spine. As he eased it over her head, he was awestruck, as always, with the sight of her naked body. He took his time reacquainting himself, propping himself on his elbow and moving his eyes slowly from her head to her toes.

Cuddy watched him and felt the same flattery she always felt when this man who was bored by everything and everyone seemed completely captivated by her. She felt a tension coiling inside of her just with the feeling of his eyes on her.

House rolled Cuddy onto her back and moved on top of her. He felt like he had to stay in control or she might vanish, suddenly and painfully, as she had months before. He didn't want to let her out of his sight or arms. Even as she wrapped her legs around him and arched her body up to meet his, a part of him feared her retreat. He ran his hands up along her arms, raising them over her head. Propped on his elbows he looked right into her eyes and said, "I'm sorry."

Cuddy offered a sad, lopsided smile. "I know," she whispered.

He bent to kiss her and she met his lips with her own, parted to let him in, to feel his tongue along hers again. Their fingers were tangled together above her head and she felt his hands tense around hers as she pushed her hips up against his. Cuddy let go of his hands and pulled his tee shirt up over his head, then began fiddling with the waistband of his boxers. House pressed firmly against her body as he moved his hands down her shoulders and over her ribs. He hungrily kissed down her chin and neck, finding her breasts and running his tongue over them each in turn. Her hands left his waistband and were on the back of his head now, urging him on. The things this man did with his tongue, in these moments, sometimes seemed to justify his every heinous act outside the bedroom… Not that she would ever tell him that.

As if reading her mind, House began kissing down her stomach, pausing at her right hip to kiss across her taut muscles to the left. His hands practically encircled each thigh and he felt the softness of her skin and the tension in her hamstrings. He lifted her legs back and tasted her, basking in being back here while his body grew increasingly impatient. He kissed her gently and felt a wave ricochet through her body, her breath catching with a loud gasp. Her hands were still in his hair and he let go of one leg to find one of her hands, reweaving their fingers together as the heat of his mouth and his breath continued to melt her body beneath him. He was slow, deliberate, and patient - finding exactly the right spot and rhythm, navigating by her noises. A squeak and gasp were fine of course, but the lower, longer moan punctuated by a sharp quick intake of air told him where he needed to be. He was much better at following directions in this setting.

Cuddy was nowhere – her mind was empty and her thoughts were only of ephemeral things like the sensations in her body. She hadn't had her brain shut off like this since… well, since the last time she was with him. She knew it wasn't simply his physical skills. When he wasn't with her she was distracted, thinking of him. When he was here, making love to her, she didn't need to wonder or worry about him. She felt peace.

Suddenly her body was as alert as her mind was asleep. Every muscle in her was tense and screaming for release as the pressure of his tongue slid across the most sensitive parts of her. Some kind of sound – Was that really her? – came tumbling out of her mouth and she was in ecstasy, with orgasmic waves rocking her body and a thin film of sweat suddenly dotting her skin. She cried out his name, expletives, nonsense, riding her orgasm for full minutes it seemed.

Only when her body had calmed, her thighs suddenly collapsing against the mattress, did House stop. He lay his head on her belly, listening to the noises of her body – her pulse, her breath, the weird noises of her stomach – and wondered how he'd lived without her for the past months. He was still holding her hand and his thumb stroked back and forth along the inch between her thumb and index finger, loving even that.

Cuddy sat up eventually and rolled him off of her, guiding him back up to the pillows. House lay there watching her lithe body move across the bed, and she slid his boxers off and sat astride him.

"Jesus, did your ass get even bigger?" he teased, reaching down to hold it in both hands.

She smirked down at him, a tendril of hair sticking to her sweaty cheek. "It's just hard to fathom mentally," she explained, playing along. "You have to experience it in person."

House grinned. "Like an eclipse."

Cuddy narrowed her eyes slightly. "Exactly," she said. "In fact, you should probably be wearing sunglasses."

House laughed. She'd missed his laugh. He'd missed laughing.

Cuddy's hands were on his chest again, taking him mentally back to her foyer. He didn't want distance between them. He pulled her wrists and brought her naked torso down to lie against his, feeling the heat of her body along his skin. He slid his hands to her hips and lifted them, then guided himself inside of her, sighing with pleasure and, truthfully, with relief. He just wanted to be this close to her always. Sliding into Cuddy beat a Vicodin sliding down his throat, every time. If only they could continually have sex he knew he could stay sober forever.

They kissed and moved in a rhythm they had perfected ages ago, each thrust of their hips carrying them closer to bliss. House felt Cuddy's mouth on his neck and her hair sliding like water across his chest. Cuddy felt his arms, tense and tight around her middle. Their bodies rocked in some perfect, elegant way they could never seem to find a way to do anywhere else. But that was okay. The ease of this helped to balm the metaphorical nose bumps and elbow sticks of their emotional relationship. If they could trust each other's hearts the way they trusted each other's bodies, maybe they could get somewhere easy one day. Maybe every day would feel the way they felt right then, as their forms simultaneously let go and fell into nirvana – happy, safe, loved.

They lay there, stuck together and heaving breaths, a tangle of limbs and appreciative murmurings. House had his eyes closed and was running his fingers up and down Cuddy's arm. "So you dumped me before our anniversary and missed out on the rockin' gift I was gonna give you" he joked.

"Oh yeah?" Cuddy replied apathetically, anticipating a punchline.

"Yup. Now you'll have to settle for door number two," he explained.

"Which is?"

"I'm going to have my wife give you a pedicure."

Cuddy lifted her head and glared at him. "Is your principal goal in life to annoy me?" she asked.

He grinned at her. "Endlessly."


End file.
